


The Inevitable Pull of Gravity

by Harbinger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Good Omens References, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Dialogue, Non Thor 2 and IM3 complaint, POV Alternating, Sherlock References, Stream of Consciousness, ideas from the shower, lots of shameless references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harbinger/pseuds/Harbinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no escaping the inevitable pull of gravity and Tony knows Loki will give him that fall soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inevitable Pull of Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Had an idea in the shower and just had to write it. Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.

Life is a cycle - creatures are born, they live, sometimes they fall in love and procreate, they pass on wisdom to others, and then they die. All creatures live and die.

  
But they are not all creatures - they are gods, each of them, in their own way, and gods do not die.

  
\--

  
He is defeated but not broken, vanquished but not conquered. The muzzle silences him but his eyes slide to and fro, lingering on his former foes. The violent emeralds touch upon Stark and flash with malice and a glimmer of something like quiet desire.

  
He owes the man a fall and Loki does not often forget to repay a debt.

  
Boredom takes control almost instantly and the god-not-god prowls in the cell that he has been sequestered into for the remainder of what will no doubt be a very long and dull existence. Mother provides for him in the form of a bed and a table and a chair but she cannot begin to understand the stagnation that his psyche has already fallen into.

  
A year of that lackluster imprisonment passes but the Trickster permits it until they had allowed their guard to slip on him. He feigns, by use of illusion, that he has become injured some how and the moronic guards they had posted at his metaphorical door fall for it. The energy barrier falls and Loki strikes, silent as a serpent. Two men fall dead and he is gone before the clarion call of the klaxon sirens can begin to shrill.

  
\--

  
His hands shake and his mouth fills with the taste of bile and Stark shudders as he controls himself, striving not to vomit. The panic attack passes and the abyss closes and still he trembles like a madman. He has not been right, since the abyss and the Chitauri; his sauntering downfall had been less willing than a certain fallen angel.

  
Anxiety through the roof, he commands the AI to seal off the tower and downs one, two, three fingers of scotch until his mind is pleasurably numb. Tony whimpers, mind still caught in that liminal space between the outermost edges of the cosmos of the universe and his own psyche; no doubt he will dream tonight. No, not dream. Suffer.

  
He still has nightmares of a large hand with fingers tapered to appear delicate wrapping around his neck, the feeling of his feet dangling and kicking for ground and finding nothing. He still has nightmares of falling not once but twice and he still has nightmares of venomous emerald eyes watching him.

  
\--

  
Falling is just like flying, Loki knows, intimately, save for the destination; he knows of the permanence of a fall. Too well does he remember the crashing agony of a landing and a body broken; followed soon by a mind shattered and rebuilt to become the hateful monstosity that had come to Midgard. He craves a certain taste on his tongue, that taste of vengeance but he cannot yet achieve it; weariness digs into his soul and tears at the marrow of his bones.

  
He stands high above the sleepless streets of this healing city he had sought to conquer, mouth a mirthless slash of a smile. Malicious emeralds track slowly until he catches sight of Stark Tower soaring into the heavens. That is his destination because he owes the man a fall. A hoarse rumble of a chuckle escapes from the confines of his chest and his magic seethes up under his flesh.

  
Loki will break them, of course, break them all and when he has broken them he will turn his sights out until he can locate the ones who had broken him. And then Loki will break them.

  
For now, however, he leaps through the ether until he can land easily on the balcony of the tower. He can see the sad silhouette of Stark at the bar, no doubt drinking, and only a moment later, the human looks up as though sensing him.

  
\--

  
JARVIS speaks and warns and the inventor looks up and there, shaded against the dying light of a New York sunset is the silhouette of the god-not-god. His heart begins a rabbit jackhammer in his chest and Tony inhales sharply, vision dimming and blacking and he clenches the glass tighter. The AI speaks again, wanting to call SHIELD but Tony demurs that idea and stands.

  
Loki watches him with a fixed expression of warring desires; murder and lust painted across a gaunt and pallid countenance. That expression makes Tony shiver even as he bids the sorcerer to enter and he cannot help but to watch the smooth movements.

  
Loki is poetry in motion but poetry from the mind of Poe or Dickinson, nothing of love or goodness in him. Loki is a raven and Tony cannot help but ask him to say nevermore.  
He gets a withering look for that.

  
\--

  
Loki examines the penthouse with a mild expression, noting that the sight of his defeat has been repaired; indeed, there is no sign that he had ever been here. He can all but hear the jackrabbit hammer of Stark's thundering heart racing under the metal contraption. A smooth pivot of heel brings him to face the human and Loki lifts a brow. He does not understand the reference but puts it from his mind, callous pools of hateful emerald shifting towards the bar.

  
Stark owes him a drink but he owes the man something more important and so Loki prowls forward. He sees terror painted now across the man's face and Stark backs up so sharply that he stumbles. Loki soon has him pinned, rock and hard place, with Stark leaning back against the back of a sofa. His mouth is a thin line of terror to Loki's cruel little smile.

  
Curious, he trails pale fingers up the line of skin revealed by the man's shirt then higher, until he can rest those two long digits against the contraption. He questions as to what it is but Stark either refuses to reply or simply cannot for terror. Loki chuckles. The hand goes higher until he can carefully wrap a hand around the man's throat; he feels the pulse of terrified blood thundering against his flesh.

  
\--

  
He cannot read the god-not-god's expression but there is something keeping him from crushing the mortal's trachea. He's partially terrified but more turned on and when danger became an arousal for him, Tony cannot quite say. His sienna hued pools lift so as to eye the god-not-god and Loki hums once, a deep rumbling vibration of air that Stark can feel.

  
Curious, he presses up against the hand, and it tightens, enough that he cowers back down once more. Loki speaks, his voice cultured and fluid and he talks of how he owes Stark. Tony wants nothing from the sorcerer and says this and Loki laughs gently. Tony swallows thickly beneath the loose but controlling hand and asks what, then, does Loki owe him?

  
Emeralds blaze and the mouth parts and he bends down and Tony is suddenly being kissed, hard and sharp and harsh. Loki tastes of glaciers and of pure energy and green flashes burst behind his eyelids and Stark whimpers into the harsh kiss. Loki breaks it and says that he owes Tony a trip and a fall but is suddenly finding himself willing to compromise.

  
\--

  
Stark's mouth tastes of metal and coconut and something harsher and sharper, like the edge of a dagger against a rib. His tongue curls against Loki's as they kiss again and he feels hands reach for his hips and he moved closer under the pressure. Oh yes, Loki thinks, yes he'd be willing to compromise with this. Stark is willing beneath him, a warm body of hard lines and a definite swell against Loki's hips. He's inclined to have the man against this couch and says so.

  
Stark mutters that he's agreeable to this and they part long enough for him to turn around. The sex is not loving or gentle, not love-making, not even sex; it's brutal and passionate and malicious even and Loki leaves his mark on the human's neck repeatedly. The clash of their bodies leaves a spray of semen on the back of the sofa.

  
Loki draws back, cleaned and dressed with a thought, and watches as the human slowly leans up. His head is tilted to the side and he laughs quietly; for now, this will work and he wants to do this again, so they can keep compromising. The god-not-god vanishes silently, leaving no trace he had ever been there.

  
\--

  
Tony leans against the couch for a long time, trembling. Desire still coils looking through his veins, a reminder of the pleasure and physicality of it but he is a fool and he knows it.

  
There's no escaping the inevitable pull of gravity and Tony knows Loki will give him that fall soon.


End file.
